by Pip Harry
Tiny looks over at me. I nod my head to encourage her to talk.
‘Um, I get to write stuff down. So at least it isn’t in my head. Afterwards it makes me feel better about myself, I guess. Gives me something to be proud of. Gives all of us something to be proud of.’
‘Is it okay if Tiny reads her work?’ I ask, sensing Gayle starting to change her mind. Gayle’s phone starts ringing and she picks it up, considers it, then turns it off.
‘Yes. It is.’
Tiny unfolds her paper.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I whisper to her.
Second Chances
The needle scratches hot
Brings tears to my eyes.
Black ink,
Pushed deep in my skin,
Under so many layers of me,
I’ll never be able to erase it.
I wouldn’t want to,
The word I’ve chosen,
Tells my story,
Of wrong turns,
Turned right,
Of bad choices,
Forgiven.
Of a broken heart
Healing.
The words are red raw,
They sting and weep.
And cry out in pain.
They form a crust,
Which falls away
Piece by piece.
Leaving behind,
A new skin.
A new life.
‘That’s it,’ says Tiny, folding her paper back up.
We all sit quietly because there’s nothing left to say. Gayle sighs and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘I thought this might happen.’
‘What?’ Eddie asks.
‘If I met you guys I wouldn’t be able to say no. Now I have to change the program and I was sending it to the printers next week.’
We shake hands with Gayle and promise to organise a one-hour session for an audience of two hundred. It doesn’t seem as cold outside after our meeting.
‘Yeah!’ shouts Eddie. ‘We’re in! Tiny, you were incredible. How could she say no?’
‘Nah, it was mostly you guys,’ says Tiny, smiling widely.
‘Did you actually get a tattoo?’ I ask her.
Tiny pulls up her sleeve. On her wrist is one small simple word: Hope
Underneath is a date I assume is Charlie’s birthday.
I run my finger over the letters. ‘I love it. I want one.’
‘You’re not street enough for a tatt,’ Tiny jokes.
‘You’re right. I’ll work on it,’ I admit.
‘Should we celebrate?’ Eddie asks.
‘How about Rough?’ I suggest. ‘Pee Wee and Drew have that open mic night. Might be fun.’
‘Let’s go, we can tell them the news,’ says Eddie.
He links his arms between mine and Tiny’s and we push through the wind, towards the train station. The three of us invincible.
We cut down a side street in the dark, laughing and talking. It feels like my pilot light is back on. It’s been there since I saw Charlie again. Strong, warm and bright.
‘I have another idea,’ says Eddie. ‘We make our own book and sell it at the festival.’
‘Write and publish a book in four weeks?’ says Nola.
‘It’s already written. We’ll need to get everyone’s best stories together and a front cover and someone to make copies. Officeworks? I’ll get some quotes.’
‘That sounds like an impossible task. Sign me up,’ says Nola.
They make eyes at each other. Before our trouble, Scott and I used to look at each other like that.
We walk past a small park and almost walk into a man crashed out next to a bench. He’s rolled off, probably. He looks half-dead.
‘Poor bugger. It’s bloody freezing tonight,’ I say. ‘We should call the ambos.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ says Eddie. ‘Is he okay? Better check him out.’
Nola holds her phone light over his face to get a better look. Then I see it, my body flooding with horror.
The hat. The Cronulla Sharks cap that Zak wore every day.
‘It’s Zak!’ I scream. ‘Help me!’ I shake him, and grab his cold hand. ‘Zak! What have you done? Can you hear me?’
I press my fingers to his throat. No pulse. I crouch over and put my ear to his mouth and nose, but I can’t hear or feel any breath. His chest isn’t moving. He’s completely still. His arms are floppy.
I turn my head away from him. Not wanting to believe it.
‘No, no, no,’ I moan.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Nola asks.
‘He’s dead,’ I say.
Eddie shakes Zak by the shoulders. ‘No, he can’t be! Zak! Wake up!’
We pull Zak closer to a park light. His face is pockmarked with scars and a nasty open wound on his cheek that’s infected and smells horrible. He’s lost so much weight his face is hard to recognise. His skin and lips are blue and chalky. His mouth twisted in pain. His eyes fixed.
‘Call triple zero,’ Eddie says to Nola. ‘Now!’
‘Do you know CPR?’ Eddie asks me.
I look at him blankly. CPR won’t help.
‘Shouldn’t we try?’ Eddie pleads with me.
‘Nah, I don’t think so.’
Nola calls the number and waits to talk to emergency. All of us hoping Zak will cough, roll over and groan.
‘Yes, hello. Our friend is unconscious. We’re in a park, hang on … what park is this?’ she asks Eddie.
‘Hollis Park on Wilson Street. Near the kids’ playground. Tell them he might have died.’
I feel slow and heavy. Like everything is happening behind thick frosted glass. I don’t know if it’s seconds or minutes since we found him.
‘Is he bleeding?’ Nola asks me.
‘No.’
‘Breathing?’
I shake my head.
‘Pulse?’
‘No.’
‘Check his mouth for an obstruction, like vomit or food or something stuck in his throat,’ Nola says.
I’m still holding Zak’s hand as Eddie turns him on his side. Zak is skin and bones and smells like piss, booze and chemicals.
Eddie checks Zak’s mouth, his tongue is swollen. ‘Nothing, Nola.’
‘Okay, let’s do CPR,’ says Nola. ‘Guys, 30 compressions, then two breaths. Come on. Do it now! If they bring an AED machine they can get his heart started again.’
‘He’s gone, Nola,’ says Eddie. ‘Let’s leave him.’
Eddie kneels over Zak, holding his face between his palms, as Zak’s eyes stare past him at the sky.
‘Why did you do it?’ Eddie asks Zak’s body. ‘You had people who cared about you.’
Bats pour out of the trees, screeching into the quiet, frozen night.
We sit with Zak until the ambulance and police arrive, and they cover him up with an official sheet. Before they do, one of them closes his eyelids with her finger. At least he looks peaceful.
‘How long has he been dead?’ Eddie asks them.
‘A while,’ says one. ‘Most likely overdose or he could have frozen to death. Last night it got down to three degrees.’
It could’ve been me. Lying here frozen solid and lifeless. I wanted it to be me. And now I’m looking forward to things again. I want to live.
‘How do you know this man?’
‘He was our friend,’ I say. ‘His name is Zak.’
We go to Rough. The only place that feels right. Pee Wee and Drew are setting up for their show, so we sit outside. I feel numb. Eddie gets coffees, but I don’t drink mine.
My throat is tight with tears. Zak meant more to me than Eddie or Nola will ever know. He was my defender when I was weak and helpless. He slept beside me and kept me safe throu
gh so many long, scary nights.
I stand up to leave. ‘I’m going to head off. I need to get back to the shelter. They’re kicking me out soon, so I better enjoy it while I can.’
‘Kicking you out?’ Nola asks. She’s pale and her ponytail is loose. A smear of dirt across her cheek. But she seems stronger. More sure of herself. She surprised me. I never imagined Nola would be good in a crisis.
‘I’ll find something. I’ve got shifts at Sydney Eats. Money from the kitchen. That’ll pay for a few weeks at a boarding house.’
‘Those places are miserable,’ says Eddie. ‘We’ve got to find you something else, Tiny.’
‘Could you go back home?’ Nola asks. ‘Be with Charlie and your mum?’
‘Nah. I’m not ready for that.’
‘You could stay at my place,’ Nola offers.
‘Thanks, but that wouldn’t work out with your mum. I’ll sort it. I’ll be okay.’
I need my own place. A bank account. A phone. I need to do it myself. Not crashing on someone’s couch or pull-out. It has to be my room. My things. A safe place for Charlie to stay.
‘Go straight to the shelter,’ says Nola.
‘I will.’
She hugs me, and so does Eddie. Our goodbyes say more than see ya later. They say that life is short. Hold on tight. The only thing we have is each other.
After Tiny leaves, Eddie and I stay outside Rough for a while longer.
‘You want to listen to Pee Wee? He’s getting ready to play.’
‘No. Not tonight.’
We sit in silence, shell-shocked. It’s the first time I’ve seen a dead body outside an episode of CSI. The first time I’ve ever spoken to emergency services. The first time I’ve seen someone’s corpse covered up by a sheet. A person I’ve talked to. Shared food and words with. It doesn’t feel real.
Eddie picks up my hand gently. His skin is warm and comforting.
‘I should go home too,’ I say, checking my phone. There’s a message from Mum. California Rolls and Karaage fried chicken? Y/N
I type back Y.
How’d the meeting go? Can’t wait to hear!
I want to be in my safe, suburban house. I want Mum to tell me everything will be okay. Even if I don’t believe it anymore.
‘I’ll take you,’ says Eddie.
‘The bus stop is down the street.’
‘I’m taking you home,’ he says.
‘Okay. Thanks. Eddie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Is it not important anymore?’
‘What?’
‘The writers’ festival. After what happened with Zak is it stupid to care about made-up stories and poems?’
‘It’s even more important now,’ says Eddie. ‘Now it’s a memorial for Zak. We have a chance to say goodbye properly.’
When we get to my place, Eddie offers me a hug. I press myself into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. I’ve been trying to be strong and in control since we found Zak but I let go now, crying. He brings his face into my hair and breathes in, his hand gently holding the back of my neck.
‘You did an amazing job tonight. You were there for Zak. If we’d found him earlier you might have saved his life.’
I think of Eddie’s dad, dying all alone under a pile of blankets in the middle of a busy train station. Hundreds of commuters walking past day after day. This can’t be an easy night for him. He wipes my face with his shirt sleeve.
‘Are you okay, Eddie?’ I ask.
‘Not really. Seeing Zak like that … it was hard. Some of them you can’t save. Some of them don’t want to be saved.’
I take his hand. ‘Come in. You shouldn’t be alone. Let’s stay together.’
‘Nah, you have school tomorrow, I should go.’
I pull him towards the house and take out my key. If he feels like I do, he’s not in a good way. I open the front door, taking him with me into the warm house.
I drop by the Street Library. Reading is the only thing I can do to stop my mind replaying finding Zak in the park. To stop myself wondering if there was something else I could’ve done to keep him alive.
Meredith is unpacking a box of books.
‘Oh, good, you’re here! I have brand-new titles. A donation from a publisher. Wait until you see the goodies they’ve sent over. It’s like Christmas!’
I sit down in one of the beanbags and drop my head on my knees, crying.
‘Tiny! What’s wrong?’
Meredith puts down her box, kneels and puts her hands gently over mine.
‘I found my friend, Zak.’
She hands me a tissue from her jacket. I blow my nose into it.
‘But isn’t that good news? Why are you crying?’
‘I found him, but he was already dead.’
‘Oh, Tiny. I’m so sorry. I know how much he meant to you. What do you need? How can I help?’
‘Books. I need more books.’
‘That I can do. Wait here. Let me get you a stack. Will you stay and read? I’d love the company. Maybe we could talk about Zak if you like. What sort of man he was. The things you did together?’
‘I will stay, thanks.’
Meredith squeezes my hands. ‘This was Zak’s life and it ended because of his choices. You couldn’t have stopped it, okay?’
At the shelter, Aimee is visiting with her new bub, Daisy.
Everyone is crowding around her, staring at the little angel, her black hair in a soft spike, in a sling around Aimee’s chest. I hang around the edges, not wanting to get in the way, but after everyone drifts back to the pool table and their desks, Aimee calls me over. She’s feeding Daisy on the couches, under a cloth.
‘Thank you for being there when my waters broke. I didn’t know what was happening.’
‘That’s okay. Daisy is cute. Congratulations.’
‘I heard about Zak. I’m so sorry, Tiny. He was a good man. I’ll miss him too.’
Aimee rubs my arm.
‘We’ll make sure he’s remembered here. Would you mind saying something about Zak at dinner tonight? For the residents?’
‘Yeah, okay.’
‘Hey, I heard back from Willow House. I’m not supposed to be checking my work email, but I can’t stay away. It’s a residential facility in the western suburbs. It’s clean. Longer term than we are. They have a place and you could transfer there. How does that sound? If you’re keen I’ll let the team here know and they can look after the paperwork for you?’
‘That’d be good. Ta.’
I was relieved to have a bed but the west was miles from my life here. Over forty kilometres. Hours on public transport. How would I get to Sydney Eats for an early shift? Get home after a late night?
‘I had to call in some favours but I don’t want you back out there. You’re doing so well, Tiny. I’m proud of you.’
‘You alright?’ I ask. ‘How’s it going with Daisy?’
Aimee looks like she could do with a good kip. She puts Daisy on her shoulder.
‘I’m so, so, so tired. It’s a lot harder than I thought.’
I know how Aimee feels. Being a mum is tough. Everyone expects you’ll get on with it. That it’s second nature. It isn’t.
‘You don’t have to be the best at it,’ I say.
‘It feels that way sometimes. Cloth nappies or disposable? Bottle or breast feeding? Organic baby food or jars? All these decisions make my head spin.’
‘Being there for her, trying, that’s the main thing. Ask for help, too, if it feels too much. You don’t have to do everything.’
I reach out my arms, remembering how desperate I was for someone to take Charlie from me, even for a few minutes. ‘Here,’ I say. ‘Do you mind if I cuddle her for a bit?’
‘Yes please,’ says Aimee, handing me the baby.
&nbs
p; Daisy looks at me with milk-drunk eyes, and I rock her gently. After a few minutes, she falls fast asleep. Holding her makes me feel sleepy and calm, too. It reminds me there were moments like this with Charlie. It wasn’t all screaming.
‘She never does that for me,’ says Aimee. ‘You’re really good at this, Tiny. I bet you were a babysitter, right? A couple of younger brothers or sisters?’
I shake my head. ‘Nah, actually I’m a mum.’
Aimee doesn’t look too surprised. Maybe she suspected, all along.
I settle Daisy back in her pram.
‘A son, Charlie. He lives with my mum right now.’
‘You know, Tiny, I had an inkling you were a mother, by how you reacted when my waters broke. I thought there was more to your story than you were letting on. I’m glad you told me. Maybe one day we can have a playdate with our kids?’
I feel a burst of happiness at the thought of being a regular mum with a cup of takeaway coffee, baby wipes and trips to the park.
‘I’d really like that.’
I’m helping Siena load Sydney Eats dinners into the van. A hundred single serves of Hokkien noodles from a Chinese restaurant ten doors down from the shelter. There’s a line out the door most nights, people will wait for ages to eat their spicy dumplings and stir-fries.
‘You right for tomorrow’s early shift?’ says Siena.
We’re serving breakfast in the city. Porridge and hot drinks to people who have to sleep out in this freezing weather.
‘I’ll be there,’ I say, grabbing the last tray and sliding it into the van.
She pulls down the back door and we get in. She starts up the heating and I put my hands to the vents.
‘I hear you’re moving on from Hope Lane soon.’
‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Aimee’s got something for me out west.’
‘I’m not worried and I know you’ll be fine. But would you be interested in moving into a spare room at my place?’
‘How much is the bond?’ I say, not daring to get excited. Bond could be thousands in this city.
‘No bond. Rent is one hundred and forty bucks a week. I’ll take care of the bills. I reckon you could manage if we got you a couple more delivery shifts. I’ll also put the word out to local restaurants and cafes and tell them you’re a good worker if they have any jobs going.’
